Thursday, 6 September 2012

Disclosure (Ann Lewin)

Disclosure, by Ann Lewin

Philip Harvey

Written by request for the students at St Peter’s
Eastern Hill Melbourne studying for their Trinity College Certificate in
Theology & Ministry, February-April 2011, under the direction of Bishop
Graeme Rutherford.

Disclosure

Ann
Lewin

Prayer
is like watching for the

Kingfisher.
All you can do is

Be
where he is likely to appear, and

Wait.

Often,
nothing much happens;

There
is space, silence and

Expectancy.

No
visible sign, only the

Knowledge
that he’s been there

And
may come again.

Seeing
or not seeing cease to matter,

You
have been prepared.

But
sometimes when you’ve almost stopped

Expecting
it, a flash of brightness

Gives
encouragement.

Ann
Lewin is drawing on an established tradition in modern poetry of using the
kingfisher as a sign of anticipation, breakthrough, recognition, wonder, and
revelation. Her understanding of prayer comes from the contemplative and
mystical traditions of Christianity, though in this poem we have the groundwork
of the ‘moment’ that is the purpose of the Japanese Zen form called the haiku.
The poet is describing a process in prayer that is also well-known in other
religious traditions.

In
the opening she is saying that prayer involves vigilance. It is about doing it
even when you cannot be sure if it is working and what the results might be.
All we can do is begin to pray and to continue in the belief that something
more will happen. The poet is quite clear, by the way, that something will
happen. Prayer is about paying attention: it is an activity of direct
concentration.

When
we read that “there is space, silence and expectancy” we are reassured about
the reality of our surroundings, about the state in which prayer exists and
develops. But we also have confirmed through that awareness that something is
happening, something that does not happen when we are not praying.

We
know that he is there because we have seen him before. For me, the important
message here is that prayer is ongoing and that no matter how well or poorly we
do it, we are never discouraged from praying. The “flash of brightness” is not
about the process of prayer itself, which will be done, but the way in which
prayer brings about so much good: breakthrough, recognition, wonder,
revelation. The conclusion explains that prayer itself is the encouragement for
more prayer. Encouragement is not itself the answer, the answer is more prayer.

At
its most elementary, the poem is using bird-watching as a metaphor for prayer.
But what is most important to observe is the kind of bird: we are looking for
the most special of all birds. The poet has chosen the kingfisher with care,
knowing its related meanings in the poetry of our time. Here now are four poets
amongst many who have used the kingfisher for different poetic purposes.

Gerard
Manley Hopkins (1844-1889) wrote a sonnet that opens, “As kingfishers catch
fire, dragonflies draw flame.” The poem says that each of us has our essential
self, which is the reason why we exist. But Hopkins goes further, saying that
the most essential self is Christ in us and that, truly understood and lived,
Christ will lead us into justice, beauty and the will of God.

T.
S. Eliot (1888-1965) in ‘Burnt Norton’ of ‘Four Quartets’ writes

After
the kingfisher's wing
Has answered light to light, and is silent, the light is still
At the still point of the turning world.

The
whole of this long poem is concerned with our understanding of time and
personal relationship. Existence becomes meaningful through our deepening
understanding that we live eternally in the present. Although not stated
explicitly, both the kingfisher and “the still point” are other ways of talking
about Christ. Eliot had a lifelong interest in the myth of the wounded
kingfisher, a symbol of death and rebirth. The kingfisher is sacred because of
its wound.

Mary
Oliver (b. 1935) writes a poem called ‘The Kingfisher’ in which the bird does
what it does, just as it always has and will. She says that the bird “wasn’t
born to think” about happiness, religion, or any of the other things we humans
would read into its actions. At the same time, she says that the kingfisher
does what he does “religiously” and in fact “perfectly” in a way that she could
never do in her own human life.

Seamus
Heaney (b. 1939) has composed a number of poems about Mad Sweeney, a medieval
Irish king who threw a Gospel Book in a lake. His punishment by a humourless
local bishop was to turn Sweeney into a bird. In one of these poems (‘Drifting
Off’) Sweeney remembers all the types of bird he has met through his life, for
example

I
learned to distrust

the
allure of the cuckoo

and
the gossip of starlings

All
the birds he meets have some quality that is questionable, less than perfect,
if not downright underwhelming. Until the final two verses:

But
when goldfinch or kingfisher rent

the
veil of the usual,

pinions
whispered and braced

as
I stooped, unwieldy

and
brimming,

my
spurs at the ready.

For
Heaney, the kingfisher reveals what is possible. The kingfisher is real, a part
of the real world, yet through its activity it reveals something beyond the
mundane. This bird inspires Sweeney to rise above the general melee of everyday
existence, if only for a time.